


Life, as it is

by Salambo06



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, First Date, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Holidays, M/M, Post S4, Seduction, Sharing a Bed, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-15 03:24:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17521085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salambo06/pseuds/Salambo06
Summary: When Sherlock tells John that his parents think they're a couple, John has a better idea than pretend to be together, much to Sherlock's delight.*“Sherlock,” John stops him. “I don’t want to act like a family. I want, during those four days, to truly become a family.” He takes a step forward, heart pounding. “So I am not going to play along and let your parents see what they want to see. Instead, I am going to show you, during those four days, just how brilliant we could be, together.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [johnwatso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnwatso/gifts).



> Here I am with a new fic, the first in 2019! This is for Christina who deserves all the stories!  
> I'll be updating every week, so stay tuned!
> 
> This hadn't been betaed so don't hesitate to tell me if you spot any mistakes :)
> 
> Love,  
> Pauline.

Rosie is crying.

John turns back around on his seat, reaching for her bee toy and putting it back against her chest in a vain hope of calming her down.

"She hates it, John," Sherlock comments next to him, eyes fixed on the road. "Always have."

John sighs, rubbing his hand gently against Rosie's leg, "I don't understand, babies usually love car rides." Rosie's criers a little harder at that, as if to prove him just how wrong he is, and John tries to shush her softly. "It's alright, sweetheart, we're almost there."

"We're not," Sherlock says, looking at him this time, and John glares at him.

"Not helping, Sherlock."

Sherlock's lips curls into a small smile, "Simply pointing the obvious, that's all."

John sighs again, giving up entirely on making her stop fussing, and turn back to sit properly on his seat. Sherlock's right, they're still far from their destination and with no break planned, Rosie will simply have to finally fall asleep. They had left early, hoping she will finish her night in the car, but she had apparently other plans entirely. Glancing at her in the mirror, John can't help but worry about their time away. She's not used to leave her home, and John can't help but think spending three nights at Sherlock's parent's is going to be difficult.

"It's going to be just fine," Sherlock says, startling him, and John turns to look at him. "I'm certain Mummy has already set up her room with all too much toys and stuffed animals."

John smiles, shaking his head, "You're right. I'm just..."

"Worried," Sherlock supplies, and John nods. "Which is perfectly normal I’ve been told. I’m sure we’ll all be fine."

John nods again, slower this time. It is still strange, but somehow natural, to hear Sherlock talk about them as a whole. John still can’t help but feel just a little overwhelmed each time. It isn’t as if he hadn’t been wanting this, a family. And Sherlock and Rosie are filling that role perfectly. He hasn’t thought about dating or even looking for a motherly figure for Rosie. He tried, god knows he tried, to make it work with Mary and after everything, the betrayal and all the lies, John isn't sure he could do it all over again. It had almost cost him what he values the most, and he's not about to let it happen again.

"It's nice of your parents to invite us like this," he says, hoping their voices would reassure Rosie as they talk.

Sherlock glances back at him for the briefest of second, "They insisted a lot, I couldn't say no."

John taps his finger against his seat, "It's been awhile since I last saw them."

Sherlock's eyes find his again, and this time linger there for a long moment. John forces himself to look back at the road, fingers curling into a fist and he breathes out slowly.

"John," Sherlock begins, because of course he's able to read it all anyway. "It really is going to be alright."

John sighs loudly, "They must hate me, Sherlock."

And they have every reasons to. He had done nothing but hurt Sherlock over and over again since he came back. Even after that bloody Christmas, after listening to Sherlock's mother cursing about the person who shot her son, John chose to return to Mary. He forgave her, christ, he forgave her for shooting his best friend, the only person John truly cared about. There isn't a chance Mummy Holmes doesn't know. Just like she must be aware of the lying, hurting and beating that came afterward.

"John, stop," Sherlock says softly, maybe just a little too soft, and John closes his eyes.

"I'm not even sure why I'm going," he says. "Why I'm even here."

"We've talked about this before," Sherlock almost cuts him, and his intense stare forces John to look back at him. "We did, John, many times and I thought we agreed to move past it all."

John swallows with difficulty, "Yes, I know."

How could he forget all the evening they spent facing each other in their respective chairs, unable to say the things that really mattered. How long they remained like this, until the late hours of the night had welcomed the whispered apologies and quiet confession.

"It's just..." John begins before stopping himself.

_There's still so much I need to tell you._

"John, I know for a fact my parents are very happy to see you," Sherlock suddenly says, sounding a bit more nervous and John can't help but frown at him.

"You do?" He asks carefully, and Sherlock's eyes dart to him quickly.

He hums, "Yes."

John doesn't reply just yet, studying Sherlock closely and realising he had been suspecting something was off for a while now. Ever since Mummy Holmes had called, actually. Sherlock had informed him that they were going to spend four days there, and John had barely been able to ask why before Sherlock had stormed out of the flat. He had continued to avoid the subject ever since, and John had only managed to find out that his parents had been asking to see Rosie for quite some time now.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock clears his throat, fingers tightening around the wheel, and John decides to wait silently for him to be ready to say whatever it is he's been holding back for so long now. He watches as Sherlock's lips part twice without a sound coming out, and when he lets out a deep sigh, John knows he just gave up a battle within himself.

"They want to see their granddaughter," Sherlock blurts out.

It takes only a second for John to stop himself from laughing, "Their granddaughter?"

Sherlock nods, "That’s what I said, yes."

John licks his lips. He can't help the light laughter that escapes him.

"Care to explain?"

Sherlock sighs again, eyes finding Rosie's sleeping form in the mirror. "You’ve met my mother, she can be…. " he trails off, teeth grazing his lower lips, and John watches in silent. "Let’s just say that when she has her mind set up on something, it’s impossible to make her see otherwise."

John nods slowly, "I see. And what is she thinking exactly?"

Sherlock looks at him, "She seems to believe, and apparently for some time now, that Rosie, you and I are a family."

John doesn't have anything to say to that, so he keeps quiet. Somehow, he understand that perfectly. After meeting both of Sherlock's parents and seeing the constant worry in their eyes every time they talked about him. Surely believing he was now part of a family must reassure them.

"Wait," he suddenly exclaims. "She's expecting us to be a couple, a family."

Sherlock's finger tightens around the wheel again, "I’m not entirely sure what she is expecting."

"We’re going to be there for four full days," John supplied, slowly getting why Sherlock had been so nervous. “Don’t you think we should find out?”

Sherlock sighs, “Do we really? They’re going to be all over Rosie anyway. We just have to act like we always do since it convinced them already it seems.”

John looks back at the road. Act like they always do. John isn’t sure what that is supposed to mean exactly. In fact, he hasn’t been sure of how to act around Sherlock for some weeks now. Ever since Sherlock had insisted he moved back in with Rosie actually.Yes, the first few days had been filled with uncomfortable silence and half finished sentences, but after they got around to finally talked, things had almost been like they used to be.

“Sure, yes,” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else.

Act like they always do. Right. And that's supposed to be simple surely. John can't remember the last time he felt this warm happiness when he wakes up every morning, knowing Rosie is safely sleeping in her cot and listening to Sherlock moving around downstairs. Only to, right after, realise that you're going to spend your day with the man you're desperately in love with without being able to tell or show him so.

“Right,” John exhales loudly. "That's going to one interesting holiday." Sherlock smiles again, almost tentatively, and John smiles back. "You really have a way to put us in such situations, you know."

A soft chuckles escapes Sherlock's lips, "Warned you on the very first day. "

John laughs in return, "You did."

He catches Sherlock's eyes and they remain silent for a long moment, simply staring at each other until Sherlock remembers he's supposed to be driving. John realises he's still smiling as he himself look back at the road, and despite the doubts filling his head about the entire trip, he strangely feels himself relax into his seat. Yes, Sherlock's parents are going to expect them to act a certain way around each other, but John couldn't care less. This could be an opportunity, he thinks. A chance to make Sherlock understand that they could be brilliant together, a chance to show him that he never wants to go again, a way to tell him just for how long he had been hoping for the three of them to become a real family.

They don't say much for the rest of the ride. Sherlock seems lost in his own thoughts, and John wonders if he's analysing the way he reacted to his announcement. Is he trying to figure out why John hadn't protested more. Maybe he should said something instead of letting Sherlock work it all out so soon. John glances back him, teeth working on his lower lips as he tries to think of something to say. Anything really that wouldn't ruin his chance to let this holiday be the last step towards more.

Rosie chooses this moment to wake up, and John turns around quickly, "Hello again, sweetheart."

She stares at him, eyes still full with sleep, before looking at Sherlock. John follows her stares, and finds Sherlock looking back.

“Shouldn’t you be looking in front of you?” He says, earning a glare.

“She should be sleeping,” Sherlock says, eyes back on the road. “She didn’t get her two hours nap this morning.”

“It’s alright,” John says, reaching for one of Rosie’s toys and and handing it to her. She doesn’t seem very convinced. “Her routine is going to be upset while we’re at your parent’s anyway.”

He keeps an eye on her until he’s certain she won’t start crying again before sitting back properly. Sherlock’s finger is drumming on the wheel and so John turns on the radio, choosing a station that the three of them would enjoy. He hums to the music, not missing the way Sherlock is now smiling. They spend the rest of the drive like this, and John finds that maybe, in a way, they are already a family.

Sherlock’s mother is already outside waiting for them when they park. The house doesn’t look the same in the middle of summer. John wonders if they could go and take a walk in the four days to come, getting to know Sherlock’s past a bit more.

“And so it begins,” Sherlock sighs, unlocking his seatbelt.

John rolls his eyes, open his door and getting out. Violet is all over him in a matter of seconds.

“John, how nice to see you!” She hugs him tightly for a long moment. “It’s been too long.”

“Thank you for having us, Violet,” he says when she lets go.

“She insisted,” Sherlock says, having joined them.

“Sherlock, is that a way to greet your mother?”

Sherlock goes willingly into a hug, John hiding his smile by going to get Rosie.

“Up you go darling,” he says, gathering her toys in a bag. “Let’s go meet your grandmother.”

“Oh, John, she is absolutely beautiful,” Violet exclames as soon as she sees Rosie. “Adorable.”

“Here, take her,” he says, placing Rosie in her arms. “I’m going to get the bags. Sherlock, help me?”

Violet, already too focused on Rosie, walks back to the house. John waits until she’s inside before saying, “Are you certain we don’t need to talk about all this?”

“I’m sure,” Sherlock replies, taking their two suitcases. “If we talk about it then we’re going to overthink it and it might ruin it all.”

“What about the questions?” John says.

“The questions?”

“They’re going to ask us questions, Sherlock,” John sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “They are going to want to know how we got together, won’t they?”

“They won’t ask questions, John. I know my parents. And if they somehow do, we’ll improvise,” Sherlock says, sounding a bit irritated now.

“Don’t be like that,” John says, stopping just in front of the door. “If you want to improvise, then fine. You’ll be answering all those questions when they come, I’ll follow your lead.”

He opens the door, following Violet’s voice and finding her and Rosie in the living room.

“Where should we put everything?”

“Sherlock’s bedroom is for the two of you,” Violet says, looking up at him. “Rosie will be sleeping in Mycroft’s old room, it isn’t too far from yours this way.”

“Perfect,” John says, turning to tell Sherlock but he’s already climbing up the stairs.

 _Great_ , he thinks. The perfect to start they’re holiday where they are supposed to be a family and, apparently, madly in love. Sherlock can’t be sulking as soon as they arrive.

“Violet, can you keep an eye on her for a minute?”

“Sure, dear. Go ahead but don’t worry, he’s just being a child again.”

He finds Sherlock sitting on his bed, having abandoned the suitcase in the middle of the room. John hides a smile, going to sit at the desk and turning to face him. How can a grown up wearing suits and solving crimes can still look so ridiculously adorable sulking.

“I don’t want to start the holiday fighting,” he says, earning a glance from Sherlock.

“You’re the one being obtuse here.”

“And you’re the one you chose to tell me about this whole charade at the last minutes,” John replies, knowing it would get a Sherlock’s full attention.

“If you’re that repulsed by the idea, we can just tell them and be done with it,” Sherlock practically spat out, getting to his feet and walking to open the window.

John knows he’s surely dying for a smoke. He had been trying to stop for month, and even if it was still a success, John knows how hard it was on him.

“Sherlock, I don’t remember saying I was repulsed by the idea.” He gets up, breathing in deeply. “I simply don’t like the lying that it implies.”

“I told you, you won’t need to lie. You won’t need to do anything. They’re already convinced. Mummy will see what she wants to see, and my dad is probably going to spend the entire time focused on Rosie only. They are old and most of all, they are my parents, so they like to imagine their son is happy with a partner and a child. We just have to let them see whatever they want to see, that’s all.”

 _Does it mean that there is something to see then?_ John almost asks, the question having come in different forms inside his head for weeks now. And now, with Sherlock telling him that not altering their habits around each other, they are going to fool two of the most brilliant minds there is, well, of course he is going to be confused. If it at all seemed like an opportunity a few hours ago, now John isn’t so sure. How can any relationship be build on an act.

This can’t ruin the chance he’s not even sure he has in the first place. A chance he’s been trying to ask for too long. For Christ sake, for _too_ long. He can’t do this forever, can’t come back every now and then to Sherlock’s parents and have to do it all again. Act madly in love when he already is, act like a family when they already are.

 _We just have to act like we always do since it convinced them already it seems_.

“Sherlock,” he says, half breathing. “Look at me.”

It takes a small eternity for Sherlock to turn around, just the time for John to know, to _absolutely_ know that he can do this.

“Sherlock, we are not going to act like a family,” he says, choosing each words carefully.

“Fine, as you wan-“

“Sherlock,” John stops him. “I don’t want to act like a family. I want, during those four days, to truly become a family.” He takes a step forward, heart pounding. “So I am not going to play along and let your parents see what they want to see. Instead, I am going to show you, during those four days, just how brilliant we could be, together.” Another step closer. Sherlock’s eyes are fixed on him, wide open. “For four whole days, I am going to seduce you, Sherlock Holmes. So I need you to tell me if…” he breathes in deeply, chasing the ache forming inside his chest away. “I need you to tell me if this isn’t something you want. I’ll forget about it, won’t talk about it and remain your friend. But I need you to tell me.”

Sherlock still hasn’t moved a muscle, and John is starting to realise what he just did. _Stop taking._ He can’t say more or it’ll look as if he’s pressuring him to say something, to say _yes._

“I… I can go, you don’t have to say anything right no—”

“No. I mean yes. I mean I want to. I mean —” John can’t help but smile at the sight of Sherlock’s frustrated face. “What you said,” Sherlock finally breathes out, his voice barely a murmur. “Seducing me. I want that.”

John could burst out laughing. Or cry, maybe.

“Yeah?”

Sherlock nods, slowly, eyes not leaving John’s. “Yes.”

 _I need to go now or I’m going to kiss him_. John is going to do this right. He’s going to take his time, four whole days, far from home and from all that could distract them. Here, where Sherlock grew up, he’s going to make this brilliant man _his_.

“I’m gonna go check on Rosie,” he says, finding it hard to walk away. “Then we can unpack.”

“I’m taking care of that,” Sherlock says.

John breathes in deeply. “Ok. Going now.”

He takes a step back, walking backward. Sherlock said yes. He wants to be seduced, wants to be a family, wants to be with him. And now, John has to act as if his whole world hadn’t just changed. He is just about to reach the door when Sherlock finally moves, taking a step towards him.

“John, wait.”

John goes still, worry creeping upon him. “What?”

“I might already be,” Sherlock says, a blush blooming on his cheeks. “Seduced, I mean.”

John’s heart grows a little bigger, “Oh, well, nevermind. Let’s do it again, properly this time.”

The sound of Sherlock’s sharp inhale fills the room. John realises he really needs to go before finding himself walking back to him. He’s about to disappear in the hallway when he looks one last time to Sherlock.

“Please tell me I’m not the only one feeling ridiculously happy right now,” he says, barely able to contain himself.

Sherlock’s face breaks into a grin, so bright that it makes all of John aches for more.

“You’re not.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the amazing feedback on the first chapter, I hope you'll all like this one just as much!

John is still chuckling like a bloody teenagers when he reaches the stairs, Sherlock’s own laughter echoing behind him. He takes a moment, in the middle of the stair, to breath it all in properly. When just hours ago he had been thinking of spending the rest of his life never knowing if he had a chance, now he knows for sure. No more doubt, no more unanswered questions. In four days, they’ll go home and John will never sleep in his old bedroom again.

“Better not screw this up, Watson,” he whispers, still not quite believing it all. “Sherlock wants to be seduced, better do it right.”

“John, is that you?” Sherlock’s father appears at the bottom of the stairs. “I thought I heard you.”

“Morning Patrick,” John smiles, climbing down the last few steps to shake his hand.

“How was the ride?”

“Good, good, thank you. Have you seen Rosie?”

“Yes, she’s an angel. Violet has taken her in the back garden. Is Sherlock up there?”

“Yes,” John says, glancing up. “He’s unpacking.”

“I’m going to say hello. If you want anything, please, take.”

“Thank you,” John replies, waiting until he’s gone upstairs before heading out.

Sherlock joins them outside a full forty minutes later. Rosie had been playing around the garden the whole time, coming back to him and Violet with different discoveries and Violet had said Sherlock used to do just that too at her age. John had smiled at the proud tone in her voice, and thought that if Rosie grows up to be as curious about the worle as Sherlock is, then it was fine with him.

She runs to Sherlock as soon as he arrives and he catches her with a small laugh. John can’t help but stare at him, suddenly very much aware that he is now allowed to do so. He can let him see, don’t have to look away anymore. And so, when Sherlock’s eyes find his, all bright still, John makes sure he can read it all on his face.

“Settled then?”

They both look back at Violet.

“Yes,” Sherlock says, clearing his throat. “I’ve also taken care of Rosie’s bags. I’m not sure Mycroft would approve of what you’ve done with his room.”

“He never comes anyway,” Patrick says, having joined them. “What about a walk?”

“Great idea,” Violet exclaims. “I’m sure Rosie would love to see your old treehouse, Sherlock.”

“Of course you had a treehouse,” John says, grinning.

“He wanted me to build him a ship up there first,” Patrick says. “We’ve figured a house would do just fine.”

“I had to improvise,” Sherlock says. “But I made it work.”

Violet places Rosie in her stroller, already heading towards the woods at the edge of the backyard. John waits until Sherlock catches up with them before switching places and walking next to him. He copies his pace, letting Sherlock’s parents walk a bit further ahead. John keeps quiet, not exactly sure what he could say anyway. Well, there is actually a lot he could say, but at the same time, he felt even more scared than before. Yes, Sherlock hadn’t turned him down, and yes they were going to get _there_ , but all the possibilities were now crashing down his shoulders.

He feels Sherlock’s hand brush his, the contact brief but reassuring. John glances at him, finding Sherlock already looking at him. John smiles back, moving just a little closer. He feels just a bit stupid now, feeling so scared. It was Sherlock, it was them. They’ll find a way to make it easy.

“Mummy,” Sherlock calls out, not taking his eyes off John. “I’m going to show John something, we’ll find you later.”

Surprised, John lets himself being pulled to their right, walking deeper into the woods. Sherlock’s fingers are warm around his wrist, and John lets out a sigh when he lets go. Still, he makes sure to walk just as closely as before.

“Where are we going?”

“I want to show you something,” Sherlock says, looking at him with a small, private smile. “And I’d figured we could take advantage of my parents fussing over Rosie to have some time of our own.”

“Always knew you were a genius,” John says, winking at him.

The blush on Sherlock’s cheeks makes something ache inside John’s chest. He wonders if he’d be able to make Sherlock blush this way so easily all the time, and how he never noticed before.

“Can I know what we’re going to see?”

“Right over there,” Sherlock says, pointing towards their left, “is where I used to come when I was a teenager.”

“Oh, interesting,” John says, walking a bit faster.

“Don’t get too excited,” Sherlock says. “It was simply a place for my experiments.”

“Still,” John says, bumping his shoulder against Sherlock’s arm, “it’s part of your past. Interesting.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes but smiles too, and John finds himself thinking of holding his hand. Maybe later, on their way back to Sherlock’s parents. For now, he desperately wants to dig into Sherlock’s past. They reach Sherlock’s hiding spot quickly and then, John can do nothing more but listen avidly to each words coming out of Sherlock’s mouth. He laughs at the memories of long nights spent watching just a few flowers, out there in the cold. He mokes gently at the tell of Sherlock’s sulk spent there, having absolutely no trouble picturing a younger version of Sherlock waiting here for hours. It’s only when Sherlock’s phone chimes with a text that they realise just how long they’ve been here.

“They’re back at the house already,” Sherlock says, pocketing back his phone. “We should head back too.”

“What about your cabin?” John says, wincing as he straightens back up. Kneeling for so long really hadn’t been a good idea. “I want to see that too.”

“Another time,” Sherlock says. “Another walk.”

“Deal,” John smiles.

It takes a full five minutes into their walk for John to dare and reaches for Sherlock’s hand. He holds his breath, tentatively lacing their fingers together, and releases it when he feels Sherlock squeezing his hand. He catches Sherlock smiling broadly at him and there isn’t much John can do against the light chuckle that escapes him.

“Definitely another walk,” he says.

“Maybe even more than one,” Sherlock answers, hand squeezing his again.

“It might sound a bit ridiculous, but that’s something I’ve been wanting to do for quite some time.”

Sherlock lets out a loud breath, looking pained for just a second.

“It’s not,” he says. “Ridiculous I mean.”

John lets his thumb stroke Sherlock’s hand softly, “Can you imagine the reactions when we’ll walk into a crime scene like that.”

Sherlock laughs, “I’m fairly sure they won’t be quite as shocked as I still am.”

John feels his chest expand with warmth and love, “What will it be when I kiss you then.”

Sherlock stops walking, eyes wide fixed on him, lips slightly parted. John laughs quietly, tugging on his hand to pull him closer.

“Trust me,” he whispers, “I’m just as nervous just thinking about it.”

“At least you have experience doing so,” Sherlock whispers back, eyes not quite meeting his.

“Maybe,” John says, deciding this isn’t the time for this discussion yet. “But I’ll be kissing you, and that’s something quite huge if you ask me.”

Sherlock inhales deeply, resuming his walk and holding John’s hand just a little harder.

“It is selfish that I’d wish we wouldn’t have to go back and be with my parents,” Sherlock says after a while, the house in sight now. “That it’d be just the two of us.”

“We’ll make time for the two of us,” John says. “We can asks you parents to keep Rosie tonight, go have a proper date. You said it yourself, they won’t mind.”

“I actually know a good restaurant you will like,” Sherlock says, smiling again.

“Perfect,” John says. “And do you know how a good date usually ends?”

Sherlock blushes so quickly that John can’t help but laugh.

“No, not that,” he says. “I was more thinking of the usual goodbye kiss.”

Sherlock is looking sharply at him again, “You do realise we won’t be saying goodbye.”

John’s smile grow wider. They stop just at the house’s gate.

“Even better,” he says. “That means there’ll be a good morning kiss too.”

Sherlock stops him before he can open the gate.

“John,” he says, sounding very serious all the sudden. “You have to know, what you said, what we’ve just talked about, this is something I’ve wanting for years and I have absolutely no idea what I am supposed to do or say or -”

“Sherlock,” John says, interrupting him. “You are doing more than fine for now.” He strokes his hand again, smiling. “As for all that’s yet to come, we can figure it out together as it comes. Does that sound alright with you?”

Sherlock nods twice, sharp and serious.

“Now, let’s go back inside and see about that date, shall we?”

Sherlock’s parents are busy in the kitchen when they come in, getting everything ready for lunch. Sherlock pretends he needs to check on something, remaining vague about it all, but John knows he probably just needs a some time alone to process all they just talked about. He lets him go with one last squeeze around his hand, smiling until Sherlock disappears up the stairs. He then goes to join Violet and help set up the table, making small talk. Sherlock comes back down only when Patrick calls for lunch. John keeps the seat next to him free and smiles at him softly when Sherlock sits down.

Violet keeps the conversation going all through lunch, going from Rosie to the cases to Mrs Hudson’s health. John answers most of the questions, letting Sherlock fills some of the details here and then. Strangely, or not if you believe Sherlock, they don’t ask a single question about them or their relationship. They are delighted when John asks them if they can take care of Rosie this evening, but that is all. No questions about where they are going or what they are going to do. Sherlock casts him a knowing look as they take back the dishes to the kitchen, which John chose to ignore entirely.

The afternoon passes in a blur, between readings, board games - where Sherlock refuses to play - and some gardening lesson from Patrick, _for later_ he said, as if knowing a secret John still hasn’t discovered. The time to get ready for the date comes quicker than expected, and suddenly, a bundle of stress begins to grow down John’s stomach. He takes a rather long time in the bathroom, pretending Sherlock hasn’t deduced why already. He goes through one two, three different shirts before picking one and then makes sure to put on his date shoes, glad to have taken them with him for the trip. He’s still isn’t sure why Sherlock called them so, probably because they are his fanciest, but John finds that if it proves Sherlock just how serious he is about it all, then he can call those shoes whatever he wants.

He gets out of the bathroom only to stumble onto Sherlock in the hallway, looking absolutely breathtaking.

“You are beautiful,” John says before really realising he’s doing so.

Sherlock smiles, a faint blush on his cheeks, “I could say the same.”

John doesn’t bother to hide his own reaction to the words, practically beaming when he says, “Are you ready then?”

“Not exactly sure I can truly be ready,” Sherlock says, face breaking into a smile. “But let’s go.”

Violet joins them both as they’re about to leave, “Enjoy your evening, boys.”

“Thank you for keeping Rosie for us,” John says, deciding against his jacket.

“It’s no problem really. And don’t worry about the hour, Sherlock knows where we hide the key. You two take your time.”

Sherlock opens the door, fidgeting with the car keys. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Violet waves them goodbye at the door, waiting until they’re inside the car before closing it.

“So,” John ways, rubbing both hands against his jeans. “Where to?”

“You’ll see,” Sherlock smiles, starting the engine and driving onto the road.

John decides for an easy subject during the ride to this mysterious restaurant and asks Sherlock a bit more about the case they received just before leaving. A few paintings having been stolen in a summer residence of a wealthy business women. Sherlock had seemed intrigued enough and had emailed her back saying he will look into it. They hadn’t had time to discuss it really before they had to pack and go, and so John was surprised to find out Sherlock had already almost solved it. He listens carefully to each of his deductions and theories, pointing out details that seems strange or important, and by the time they’re parking, John is fairly certain they’ll be able to find the said paintings once they’re back in London.

“Sherlock, are you sure this is it?”

John looks at the house they’ve just stopped by, frowning.

“Yes,” Sherlock says, knocking on the front door.

A middle-aged women opens, greeting them both with a warm smile.

“We have a reservation, Holmes.”

“Yes, follow me.”

John glances at Sherlock, impressed. “You made a reservation?”

“After our walk, obviously.”

John follows him inside, surprised to find himself in a the middle of a very large room. He could see how this was a home, with the photographs, paintings and decoration everywhere, but strangely, he didn’t felt like intruding. The woman guided them both to the adjoint room where only four table were dressed, far enough from each other.

“Is this one alright?” She asks, pointing to the table near the window.

“Perfect,” Sherlock says, going to sit down.

John imitated him, still looking around.

“The menu for tonight is right over here,” the woman says, pointing to a board on the wall. “Would you care for something to drink?”

John half listens to Sherlock ordering wine and waits until the woman is gone before saying, “What is this place?”

“Madeleine owns the house for years, she used to be a chef but decided to open her own restaurant and chose this particular setting.” Sherlock gestures around the room. “In her own house. Only four table. Very private. Very good food.”

John looked at the different couples already eating, the plates looking very delicious.

“I am not going to ask how you manage to have a table so quickly,” John says, smiling.

Sherlock beams at him, unfolding his napkin. “Glad to see you’re impressed, that’s what I was aiming for.”

“You should know by now, I am very easily impressed when it comes to you,” John replies.

Sherlock rolls his eyes but doesn’t object, which tells John everything he needs to know. Their wine arrive quickly, the both of them taking a sip in silent. John can’t help but stare some more, finding it hard to look away from Sherlock.

“You are staring,” Sherlock says, looking pleased.

“So are you,” John grins.

“Maybe, for once, we can both stare,” Sherlock smiles back.

John chuckles, quickly joined by Sherlock only to watch his smile turn into something much too sad all the sudden.

“Hey,” he says, soft, “what is it?”

“It’s no fair, that’s all,” Sherlock says, sighing. “How long it’s been since that night and how we are only doing this now.”

“Oh,” John breathes. “We can’t do this to ourselves, can’t focus on all that could have been.”

“I know,” Sherlock says. “I know.”

John takes a deep breath, “What about we get it off our chest once and for all, talk about all the time we wished for this and then we try and forget about it.”

Sherlock studies him for a long moment before nodding, looking shy.

“I can start if you want,” John suguest and Sherlock nods again. “Ok. You were talking about that night and I would be lying if this wasn’t my biggest regret. No need to talk about my state of mind at the time and how you manage to stop me from doing something very stupid.”

Sherlock shakes his head, “Let’s not.”

“But, what I can tell you, is that I really was trying to find out if you were single during diner at Angelo’s, and that your reaction made me suddenly very well aware that I could never be an interest to you. So I panicked and made a fool of myself I’m certain.” John takes a deep breath, looking down at his place. “And yet, I spent the next hours trying to decide whether I should kiss you or not, because I really, really wanted to and there were moments when I thought you might not mind if I did.”

“I am still not sure today how I would have reacted if you had kissed me that night,” Sherlock replies, searching his eyes. “I was trying really hard to impress you and make you move in, but at the same time, I was realising it might be more complicated than first planned to live with you. You were a mystery to solve back then, still are today really, and most of that came from the fact that you were making me experience feelings I didn’t understood.”

Their appetizer came, giving John some time to think of how to say what he wanted to tell Sherlock next.

“With the years, I told myself that it was good that I didn’t kiss you,” he says, eyes fixed on Sherlock’s.

“I think I understand what you mean,” Sherlock replies.

“It would have been too fast, too premature. I wasn’t ready for anything really when it came to relationship and we barely knew each other. Maybe it would have been brilliant, maybe it would have worked instantly.” John closes his eyes briefly, breathing in deeply. “But maybe it would have ruined us.”

“Sometimes I think I would have ruined us,” Sherlock says. “I still do. I look at what I did to our friendship and tell myself I would have destroy anything we could have built together. I still fear I will, especially now that I know what we are about to become.”

“You have nothing to be afraid of. I don’t expect you to stop feeling like this right now, but I know you will. With time.” John smiles, reaching for Sherlock’s hand on the table. “I have no more doubts now. We are going to be brilliant together, no matter what happened before. You want to know why I’m so sure?” Sherlock nods, eyes roaming all over his face. “Because I never stopped thinking about kissing you since that night. I thought about kissing you all the bloody time, before and after you jumped, before and after Mary, before and after the I moved back. I have been so desperately in love with you all this time that I have not a single doubt I am going to make sure this works.”

“I want it to work too,” Sherlock says. “Just as desperately as you do. I need this to work because that’s all that’s been making me hopeful all these years. I’ve spent countless hours trying to imagine what it would be like to be yours, to be part of a family with you, and now that it is within my reach, it scares me to no end that I might no be able to make it last.”

“We’ve learned from those past few years,” John says. “We know how to make sure it is going to last.”

“Communicating,” Sherlock says.

“It’s the key it seems,” John replies, squeezing his fingers.

He feels Sherlock’s feet brush his under the table. They fall silent, finally getting to eat. John can’t help but keep glancing down at John’s lips, trying to sort out all the _almost_ that he wanted to tell Sherlock about. Just as he is about to pick one, Sherlock puts his fork down the table and blurs out all too quickly.

“During our case in baskerville, we shared a room.” Sherlock pauses and John waits patiently. “You fell asleep quickly but I was still feeling shaken from… well, you remember.” John nods. Sherlock takes a deep breath. “I kissed your temple. While you were sleeping. I leaned down and kisses your temple, just once.”

“I thought about doing the same so many times,” John smiles. “It’s alright.”

“I almost kissed you,” Sherlock sighs. “That would have been bad.”

“It would have been not good, yes,” John says, careful. “But you didn’t do it. The thoughts crossed my mind too and I didn’t, because I wanted to kiss you for real. And I’m sure that’s what stopped you too.”

Sherlock nods.

“And by the way, talking about shared room, those were really complicated situations,” John says, laughing.

“Especially that time with only one bed,” Sherlock adds.

John laughs again at the memory, “It took my ages to fall asleep.”

“I know,” Sherlock replies, smiling. “I thought you would never fall asleep. I was too afraid to go first and do something in my sleep while you were still awake.”

“I had pretty much the same train of thoughts,” John replies, brushing Sherlock’s feet more firmly. “I am still amazed we woke up without having moved a muscle.”

“I researched it afterwards,” Sherlock says. “Stress will do that to you, even asleep.”

John feels his heartbeat quickening as he says, “There is only one bed at your parents.”

He watches Sherlock’s adam apple as he swallows slowly, “I know.”

“Maybe we don’t need to be so stressed tonight,” John says, soft and gentle.

Sherlock doesn’t have time to reply, the woman coming back with their main meal, but John doesn’t need him too. He can see it on his face, clear as day. All that there is left to tell each other and all that there is yet discover about each other. John finds that he cannot wait to embark on the journey.

“The food is amazing, you were right.”

“I usually am, yes,” Sherlock replies, smirking.

“Prick,” John smiles, shaking his head. “How did you find out about this place?” He asks, choosing a more easy subject to talk about.

“Mummy took us there for Mycroft’s birthday once,” Sherlock says. “I spent most of the time sulking since it was making miss a very important step of an experiment, but it didn’t stopped me from enjoying the meal quite a lot.”

“You must have make your parents life hell as a teenager,” John says. “I’m sure your mom had a lot of stories.”

“Trust me, she does and will gladly tell you all of them if you have hours to spare.”

“Maybe next time,” John says. “I’d rather spend those hours with you for now.”

Sherlock’s smile is bright in the dimmed room, “Glad we agree.”

John pushes his empty place and almost immediately someone is here to take it away.

“Impressive,” he comments.

“You really are easily impressed,” Sherlock says, mocking him.

John kicks him under the table, making them both chuckle. There is now laughing lines around Sherlock’s eyes and John can’t helps but imagining kissing them, slowly, softly.

“Tell about the best memory you have of your teenage years,” he says, elbow on the table and his head in his hands.

“Not very interesting,” Sherlock replies, leaning a bit closer.

“Come on,” John smiles. “I’m sure you can find something.”

Sherlock seems to consider the question a little longer and finally begins the tale of the summer he spent with a distant cousin visiting. John listens, unable to stop smiling as he pictures the two boys exploring the woods in the search of rare plants. Desert comes but Sherlock doesn’t stop, now explaining how Derek had managed to make Mummy agree to let them sleep outside for two whole nights.

“Did he ever came back for another summer?”

“No,” Sherlock says. “But that’s alright, those two months were very special and I think part of it is because it was a one time occasion.”

“But have you seen him again? He’s your cousin after all.”

“Not since, no. Dad mentions that he’s now living in Canada if I recall correctly.”

“Maybe you should try and contact him,” John suggests.

Sherlock nods slowly, surely considering the question very seriously.

“Now, tell me your favorite memory of your teenage years,” Sherlock says.

“Can’t you deduce it?”

“Contrary to what you might think, I can’t dest-ce everything, John.”

“Sure you can’t,” John chuckles.

He thinks about it for a moment before deciding to tel Sherlock about the time he fancied himself a writer and spent most of a year trying to write a book. He goes quickly over the story but Sherlock asks questions after questions and soon he has to explain every details that has crossed his fourteen year old brain at the time. By the time he comes to the conclusion - him giving up after having to change school and housing - they are on their way out.

“I would have enjoyed reading your book, John.”

“No you wouldn’t,” John smiles, getting into the car after him. “It was silly and filled with magical creatures.”

“Still,” Sherlock says, “I would have read it from beginning to end.”

“Thank you,” John says, hand itching to stroke his thigh. “Actually, with the blog and all, I sometimes think I could be writing about you.”

Sherlock glances at him, “You mean about us.”

“Yes, alright, about us.”

“This isn’t a bad idea,” Sherlock says. “It’s actually a brilliant one.”

“Hold on,” John laughs. “It is just that, an idea.”

“For now,” Sherlock replies with a pointed look.

John gives up, nodding a few times. They spend the rest of the drive in silence, John focus on the road. It feels strangely comfortable, thinking of the one bed waiting for them, and he finds that he cannot wait to fall asleep with arms full of Sherlock.

All the lights are off when they reach the house. Sherlock does find the hidden key very quickly and they make sure to be as silent as possible as they go up the stairs. John goes to the bathroom first, making a quick work of his evening routine and letting the place to Sherlock. He goes to lie down in bed, checking his phone until he hears Sherlock coming back. He puts it aside then, lying down more comfortably. He closes his eyes, wanting to give Sherlock the privacy he needs to get into bed too.

It’s only when the lights are being turned off that he opens them again. Sherlock is lying on his side, facing him, but still too far away.

“It was a really good date,” John whispers.

“I must say it was,” Sherlock replies. “Almost felt like any other time we went to a restaurant together.”

“Maybe we’ve been dating all along,” John says, smiling.

“Maybe,” Sherlock murmurs.

John slides a hand between them, reaching for Sherlock’s. He laces their fingers together, shifting closer slowly. Sherlock imitates him and soon they are close enough for John to feel his breath against his face.

“I recall talking about goodnight kisses,” John breathes out, watching as Sherlock’s entire body seem to shudder at the words. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re taking the whole seducing me part very seriously,” Sherlock whispers. “A success in every aspect so far.”

John chuckles, “I thought you were already seduced.”

Sherlock shrugs, moving ever closer. John inhales deeply, eyes falling to Sherlock’s lips. Both of their rapid breathing are echoing in the room. John uses his free hand to stroke up Sherlock’s arm, shoulder and neck, settling against his nape and pulling just a little.

Their lips meet in a chaste, soft kiss that takes all the remaining breath trapped in John’s lungs away. He doesn’t push further and neither does Sherlock. They remain there, kissing, for very long minutes, pulling away only to kiss again. John isn’t sure how long they keep this dance going, or how many kisses they end up sharing, but soon Sherlock is all but shaking in his arms and so John gathers him close. Sherlock tucks his head against his neck, arms coming to circle John’s waist and holding on tightly.

John kisses his temple, soft, twice.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, deciding this is how he’ll fall asleep every night from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters will be from Sherlock's POV!


	3. Author’s note

Just a little note that I’ll delete later to say that there won’t be a new chapter this week ... Life happened and I didn’t get around finishing chapter 3. I’ll try my best to post it next wenesday! Thank you again for all the love for this story!!


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